Truth, Beauty, Freedom, and Love
by Scribbleistas
Summary: A group of interrelated oneshots we decided to group together under these themes. Warning: Mature content and some interesting erotica. Proceed with caution- This will make you burn. Also, R/C/E. Enjoy! Please give feedback! WE don't own anthing, and all that rubbish, you know the drill. Erotica is our speciality, and how we love it.
1. Truth

**Truth**

Light, feathery touches on her spine sent cold shivers rushing through her, He had roughly rolled her onto her stomach, unlacing the cords of her corset with a gentleness not usually found in a man of his stature, So warm, so comforting, it was effortless to give herself over to sensation, auburn curls falling over her cheeks like a river of copper. Her breath left her lungs in short, nervous bursts. The constrictive garment came away in his hands, a hard shell of silk, lace, and bone.

He loomed over her like an avenging angel- an angel of death. The girl could feel herself trembling under the intense gaze, certain that if he persisted she would burst into flame. She whimpered softly as his gloved hands caught herm and lifted her slender body back onto her feet.

That beautiful body- the blood running through those veins must have been the elixir of life itself. He wanted to taste her, to smell her, to feel her flesh give way to his plunging knife,,, the cumbersome contraption of bone and fine stitchery was thrust asunder without a thought, He would shelter this tiny angel from the coldness of the light, bring her into the suffocating shadows, which like so much rich velvet engulfed his every move… the darkness spoke to him, the breeze calling him by name and caressing his burning throat.

A chill swept over her skin, icy, terrifying, as he peeled the chemise from her shoulders… He growled with a soft hunger that alarmed her, and she felt vulnerable and exposed, a newborn faun in the jaws of a wolf- an emerald-eyed wolf…Those emerald orbs so tempted her…

A voice that rang out in the wilderness, that would be her fate, to be his voice, so that all would know who controlled the shadows that so claimed him… "Cheri…"

Even his moans were melodic, she noticed with a whimper of protest as his hands-those devil's hands- met her tender flesh. Fingertips explored each crevice between her ribs, every freckle on her body discovered by his inquisitive lips and tongue. The fur carpet cushioned his knees as he dropped behind her, ebony leather brushing the lace tops of her stockings. A groan rattled in his chest as the naked half of his countenance –handsome as an archangel-grazed her linen-covered thighs. A tremor rocked her petite frame the instant she realized that her stockings were the only shred of modesty she had left. He had lulled into such a stupor-! "Shh…" That voice… soft, soothing notes wafted through her senses leaving her in a haze of enrapturement…

He couldn't help but find it pleasing; the soft little mewls escaping her rosebud lips as he gently lifted each white leg, rolling the stocking down with a finger and thumb, pausing with a smile to caress each delicate ankle. She was his- his only. No-one could touch her, he would make sure of that. Her flesh was so warm, so intriguingly soft and smooth and- he could not control himself. Squeals of displeasure rang out as she was pushed into the cold stone of the wall. It grated her back, the stinging alarming to her. She protested quite strongly, he realized with a smirk of pleasure. This would make this more interesting…

"OH!"Not able to withhold her whimper, she allowed him full access to her body, his fingers stroking the hollow of her throat, travelling lower, lower, lower still… Her breath caught inside her chest as he toyed with the soft pink flesh that crowned her breasts, hissing into the shell of her ear. "You have much to learn, my Angel…" His leather clad hands drifted from her breasts to the curve of her hips, pinning her flesh to his own. She gasped, the busy organ in her chest hammering franticly. There was something… stiff, and hard, throbbing, forced between her legs. It terrified her, excited her, and began a low thrum deep inside her body that she couldn't simply ignore. With a moan, she let her hands climb up his back, fisting in the black silk of his jacket. He smiled. "Good girl."

She was trembling. That poor little kitten, she was shaking like a leaf. He laughed as his lips travelled to her throat-that beautiful, pure, ivory kin covering the flesh from whence those angelic sounds came…"Sing, my Angel!"

"I-I_" Her voice felt dead in her throat, she could barely force words from her lips, let alone form a melody. She gasped at the sudden grasp of his hands, the sensation in her bosom and groin leaving her senseless. "Come now, precious-you would not deny your Angel his one pleasure?"

Unbidden thoughts raced through her innocent mind. His-one-pleasure? Was this not pleasing? She tried to stop her quivering breast from heaving nervous sobs or guilt as she wracked her brains for a melody. She was quaking like a wounded dove now, waiting for death. A maniacal urge to laugh coursed through his veins as he watched in silent agony, waiting… waiting…"Please."The word, so innocent and so bold, shocked him to the very core. What was this? Begging for mercy-no. She had more sense than to beg him for any sort of leniency. He has taught her well. No- that voice held… Regret.

She hardly understood it herself. His gloved hands felt perfect and luscious on her body, but-but-"Shh…" With a whimper, she let him pull her from the wall, her back pinned to his chest as his arms enfolded her like a warm, shielding chrysalis. It was so unfair, how he had exposed her to his every touch, and yet barely loosened his cravat! "Can't you sing, my sweet?" he murmured, the hiss of his velvet voice enough to make her eyes roll in a near swoon. "Very well; let me help you."

Screams of pleasure filled her mind, but no sound exuded her mouth, save a gasp. She could hardly keep from swooning, curling her fingers into the rich, and plush, velvety surface of his skin. "Sing for me!"

Was she a mute? Could he not give him the joy and rapture of her song, her voice in those screams and squeals of his imagination? He closed his eyes and waited for sound, any sound. None came. He lusted for her voice- for her death. How dare she be disobedient! He had given her anything she asked for, spoiling her like a child, giving his very life for her-would she use him for pleasure, for the vocal training he so willingly gave? Trembling with barely suppressed rage, he let a hand slide down to the soft thatch of curls that concealed her maidenhood… She gasped softly, his fingers teasing her, threatening…"I could make you…shall I?"

The pleasure was more than she could bear in silence, squealing out in joy, in terror… No, no, no! She screamed silently, her mind racing for any escape… yet her body resisted, full to the brim with agonizing pleasure… Was she to be condemned to a life of dishonor for his unworthy actions, bred purely from lust? And yet, what did it matter? He was her angel, her lover, her redeemer. He let a finger brush the silken flesh, reveling in each new noise- "That's better, my Angel-make noises for me…"

Oh God in heaven, she had never-this was-the sensations were so new, so rapturous that she could no longer control herself, a single wetness on her cheek the only indication of the single tear, pearly in the half light, as she prayed for her soul, giving herself to the devil.

"Oh, yess…"he hissed softly. "That makes you sing, my beauty." The monstrosity of his fate was more than obvious to him-lust did nothing to dull his agony. No love, no soft affection, no warm caress would ever be given to him, just coldblooded hate, easy use. So, why not enjoy the hell life had gifted to him? Off with the cravat, waistcoat, and linen shirt- clothes were nothing but cumbersome slips of fabric, hindrances to his flesh.

She moaned wildly at the feeling of bare flesh to bare flesh-her delicate little arms stretched back over his broad shoulders, meeting behind his neck…a golden opportunity presented itself, he let his hands slide up her body.

Those hands, so warm, so gentle, drove her mad with desire. Lust made her vision hazy, she moaned loudly, hips thrusting towards his in a rush of heat and warm wetness. Laughter rippled away from his throat, the sounds echoing in the darkness of the cavern, reverberating from stone and wax. "What a wanton creature you are, Cheri!"His fingers caressing her hair, almost as if petting a pet-what irony that she was the creature, and he the gentleman!

She could feel the liquid trickling down her thighs already, her core throbbing, aching for him-couldn't he see that? A low ripple of laughter in his chest gave her all the answer she needed. A little purr escaped her throat as his fingers played with the tops of her breasts, until they too ached with rushing blood.

Her skin so soft and tender, flesh so sweet on his tongue, her melodies, sweet caressing sighs and moans of godforsaken pleasures-too tempting, too tempting! Roughly, he grasped at her waist, thrusting her bodily towards him… reveling in the surprised gasp it elicited. "Why so shocked, Cheri-the devil will have his way-"Lips, warm and tender, everywhere over his tortured face…

She clutched his neck, trembling, as his musician's hands slid over her hips, wandering, exploring… Suddenly, a cry burst from her crystal throat at the alien sensation between her thighs, fingers parting delicate petals of flesh…"Oh!"

"Shh… steady now, my love…" What perfection. He felt her hips twist at the sudden invasion, an adorable little squeal… The walls of that soft, tight little tunnel felt exquisite as they hugged his fingers, his thumb entertaining itself at the expense of a small, pink nub. "Oh God, please! –Please!-Oh!" He murmured small comforts, holding her close as he tortured her, leading her by the hand, closer and closer the greatest plunge of her short life…

He marveled at her screams, her every echoing tone- everything and nothing were held in those perfect notes, her throat strung with diamond and crystalline strands like that of Adonis's gilded harp. Perfection- that was the only word to describe the music welling up between their souls.

Inside her-inside her. She wanted him, lusted for his throbbing hardness to slip into her, to penetrate her maidenhood, to take her. Sin though it was- what it was long before this night-she needed his music, his body above, enveloping, buried within. She closed her eyes and sang a melody of lust-filled abandon that could only be called heavenly- a tribute to her Angel… His every breath, his every sigh added texture to their duet as she begged him, plummeting towards the abyss of sensual pleasure. Nothing else existed…"Christine…" She awakened, confused, as if from a dream. He had pulled himself away, smirking in triumph. It would be a short defeat.

Her hips reached desperately for his finger, which hovered mere inches from her aching center, tantalizing… The notes grew high and strained as they pounced from her throat, culminating with a cry of shock…

The taste was intriguing. It was like nothing he had ever tasted-strange, yet delightfully addicting. He closed his eyes in amazement as his own tongue entered her-fighting for control, his own lust disgusted him. Guilt wracked through him, and he drew away, weeping as if broken, agony ripping through his features. "Ange-Angel?" The little peal of beauty was his undoing. He roared, wounded to the core, shoving at her, pushing her away. Get _away- get away from me while you still can…_"No."

She trembled. "Do-Do you not want me?"It had felt so… so incredible; she could have been flying and wouldn't have noticed. "Don't-please don't send me away…"His eyes lifted from the floor, wandering up her slender form…

Her hands shifted slightly, moving to cover her breast, and he heard himself groan. He could hardly stand to watch this terrible charade of love-but how could he leave her this way? Was he truly a beast to torture her in such demonic lust and then leave her to suffer alone, desolate in silence? Did he want her to suffer as he had for so many years…?

Her fingers tangled in his black hair, gliding down his neck, shoulders, and arms, to rest on his hand. Her lips brushed each vein, the soft caress a fire in his groin he was helpless to fight. His hand was so beautiful, calloused from years of harsh construction in the depths of the catacombs, yet so soft and lithe-She found his fingertips with her lips, sucking them, looking up at him mercilessly, eyes glittering as if to say-_oh my love, what I could do for you if only you would let me!_

His breath shook as he let his lips brush her wrist, reveling in her quick little sigh. What was meant to be a chaste kiss quickly deepened, until his mouth was travelling up her arm towards her throat, her flesh purpling with each nip and suckle… He finally got onto his feet and held her against him, hands cupping her pelvis…

She shook with each touch, each tender thrust of hips against hips, cloth grating at naked, sensitive flesh. She had heard of the Vampire from the other girls-now she half believed he would suck her dry of precious blood and leave her to wake into the darkness, never to die…

She was looming close to something, he could feel it…"you want me, don't you, my precious?"The bud at his fingertips…"You want to scream for me…" Scream she did, moaning at each stroke, trembling madly. He could feel the moisture welling from somewhere deep in her body, slickening her folds, finger at the little pearl… Intriguing. A delightful whimper burst from her as he lowered his dark head, and caught a pink nipple with his lips…

She caught his eyes but once, the gleaming spark intoxicating her senses. Her head thrown back in giddy abandon, all around her was a hallucinogenic dream. Deaf to all, the only sound was a rushing, like that of a great wave or a thundering of applause fro her aria. The shadows claiming her…Breathe, she screamed inwardly, for God's sake, breathe! Her senses were spinning, his hands moving, and the desperation was all in vain. With a cry, she caught hold of his hair, intending to pull him away-before a gloved finger invaded her untried body for the second time that night. Surrender was too simple really-all it took was the drop of a hand and a wail. Her eyelids fluttered as the sensations each fought to overpower the other… tongue dancing with her nipple as she swam on three leather sheathed fingers…

A roar escaped his throat as he felt her give in to his touch, his every whim. He was the victor- she would be his, and his alone, forever… She would be his- his alone, no soft boy child could steal her away from him. Did he love her? Or was it pride, making an illusion of nothingness into a hazy visage of love? He couldn't… surely he couldn't ruin her, if he truly did love her!

With something akin to relief and regret, she felt him draw away a second time. Just when something unspeakable was in her reach….

He could see her shaking as he pulled the limp linen of his shirt over his body, a frail attempt to return some modesty to the situation. Her dark eyes swam with tears, though born of what-relief or disappointment-he couldn't tell. Poor treasure-how he'd wanted to please her!

How could he? How dare he! To leave her like this, unsated, wet and aching in side every pore… Yet somewhere in the forefront of her young mind, she felt the tension building again, that nervous impulse to cover her breast. The disappointment was fractional-she felt relieved to be released and- she wanted to return the passion, and show him the torture of pleasure, sweet, delicate revenge. What was that strange urge? The velvet was warm, soft under her palms as she pushed herself upright, his back turned towards her… Music poured forth from his fingers, the organ responding as a young pup to her master's touch, As it should be – he was the Angle, the Angel of music, her lord and Master…

The instrument bellowed beneath each insistent movement of his fingers, the one thing in this world that he could possible control. If only life were so simple- your will granted at the touch of a fingertip… no sooner had the thought formulated than a slender hand grasped his shoulder…

Porcelain under her fingers-so strong, yet so delicate. With a start, she realized what he was- strong, with powers beyond her reckoning, but with one tender touch, his strength would fail… with just one touch… Whose was the face in the shadows? Whose is the face in the mask, whose eyes glittered through endless night, holding all the sadness of the world- those gleaming eyes, which both threatened and adored…

Time stopped its eternal thrumming with her touch. Could it be so? Could he dare hope that she had returned to him-that she cared for him… He dared not say that he wanted her love… He was a beast, undeserving of any real affection humankind would bring, unfeeling and selfish in the darkness of reality-but-as the realization of love began to dawn on him… pain, shooting across his raw flesh…Cold air bit into his exposed skin as the porcelain façade was ripped from his face…"No!" No, no, God, no-she hadn't seen, couldn't see-! In a fit of fear, he shoved her to the floor, screaming like a terrified animal…

Jarring impact, the ground was hard under her, leaving bruises on imperfect flesh in that moment of stinging, searing pain, as stone met skin, tearing at ivory. But in that moment, that eternal moment in which the hellish visage of his doom was made plain; it was not that unholy carnage of a face that burned it's way into her vision as she closed her eyes to pray-it was his emerald eyes, glittering in palpable sadness, in fear- in his eyes, she beheld Death.

Five long fingers clung to his ravaged skull as he backed against a draped mirror, trembling wildly. "Why?" My dear, darling beloved, WHY? You could have been happy without laying eyes on me! Yes, when my father never saw me and my mother sold me to those devils when I was only three, so she wouldn't have to see me anymore!"He could see it all clearly, a bloodied, beaten child, clinging to the bars of an animal's cage, screaming for his mother day and night-until two years of steady flogging taught him otherwise….

Oh, Angel of mercy, what had she done? He had done nothing but adore her- worship her very likeness like no other begin could have done… He had given his sanity for her and what did she return? Nothing- nothing but pain and solitude, hurts that went deeper than a scar, even a face. What could she- How could he forgive her, after all the agony she had given him? She did not deserve his love, his kindness- she could only beg him for mercy…She inched near him cautiously, as he cowered by the mirror, sheltering his face… with a shaking breath, she let her fingers brush the fabric covering his shoulder….

He flinched as she touched him, instinctively deflecting her soft hand, wanting nothing more than to die a thousand times over…"Cheri-"As lips met his disfigured skin, he panicked, his vision tunneling into blackness. What in the blazes of the deepest pit of hell was she doing?"No-no!"The wetness on her cheeks told everything.

Her hands catching both devilish and angelic halves of his face, to prevent his imminent escape, she continued to caress his mouth with her lips. Tears coursed from her eyes in a torrent, born of sympathy, longing… even love?

She-she was touching, embracing-that? Good God! Was she nothing but a monster, a demon to love him as an equal? But-she was, she was- He could hardly bring himself to fling her away again-how he longed for some words of comfort, not this hopeful, flawless illusion. No- not even in his dreams could he have felt the relief, the joy he found now… what was this?

She let her arms wreathe around his neck, her thighs at his hips as the kiss deepened. With a whimper of surprise she felt their tongues meet and her mouth exploded with the taste of him…

He crushed her to him, feeling every breath, every movement in a wicked abandon-he tore the linen from his body, soft flesh of her breasts meeting is own with a moan of delight-how had he waited so long to feel that pressure, that soft tenderness of flesh meeting flesh...

"Yes, Angel, please, now-!"She had waited all night, let him tease her, taste her-no longer. With a whimper, she felt his large hands gliding over her bare torso, down to her hips, farther, farther, please-"Oh!"

Her hands were caught on his waistband as he felt her begin to burn with passion yet again. It was too easy to tame the little vixen, to force her to his will- she was so willing, so ready to burst forth with rivers of bliss…There was nothing barring him from taking her- right now, no shame, no dishonor could reach them Because she loved him- she yelped as he lifted her and fairly ran into the darkness of the cavern, trembling in anticipation as he dropped her on the velvety ivory fur…

"Please… Oh…" The failed attempts had left her brimming, and with a groan of ecstasy he found himself capable of sliding not only two or three, but all four of his fingers into her core. A cry left her swollen lips as his thumb attacked the bud beneath her curls. "Like it, my sweet Angel?" He whispered…

Of God above, yes! She wanted him with every breath she took, she fairly screamed in ecstasy with every throbbing wave of movement in her core. She lusted for him-this wanton creature lusted for him-his throbbing hardness inside her… She wanted to torment him until he was seeping with lust, ready to take her- to make love to her hard and-"Angel-Please!"Was she begging for mercy or was she begging for his love? Her breasts began to awaken at the touch of his lips, fingers clenching in his hair. "Harder-more-faster-"He obliged. The stone walls rang with her screams as his tongue flicked across the nub, forcing her over the edge and into the abyss… At last. "Ohh… Angel!"

She looked so heartbreakingly beautiful-her throat and breasts glittering with a light sheen of sweat, her eyelids fluttering-all but drowning in her first taste of afterglow. Every throb ached in agony. The pressure built in his loins until he threatened to explode in terrible ecstasy.- she took hold of his trousers, fingers enticing his already swollen member with their soft touch- and she slowly pushed at them… He could have laughed at her covetous lust.

"Eager, are we not?" He chided softly, still ravishing her with his fingertips. Her soft eyes widened at the sensations, her lips open with a soundless scream. Several moans and a shudder were all it took to help her burst again… and again… and again…"I…please, Angel!" She wailed for the sixth time. "I-I can't-not again!" He smiled his eyes black and glittering. "But you are doing it, my love. " The soprano threw her head back with a aide-eyed cry, her limbs quaking uncontrollably. For a moment, she was tolerably certain she was going to die, until her heart calmed and she felt his sticky fingers stroking her nether curls. "You were doing it…?"

He wanted to taste her, smell her on him- no, it was too much- his lust would ruin her success, the success he had guaranteed through years of work, years of painstaking work…let her rest now, recuperate from the passion he had opened her so easily to. She whimpered- the sound calling to him as a young child's- as his touch was removed. Goddamn it, she was irresistible! He murmured to himself, his voice cold with apprehension. "Do you want this, my love? Do you want- Do you want this horror? "

After several minutes, she found herself able to stand and recover her clothing. Her breath fluttered as his gloved hands reached around her waist and refastened the busk of her corset. She caught his hands before he could pull away, pushing a thumb beneath each glove, rubbing his palms carefully. "Can't I stay?"

No-one had ever asked him- he could have never wanted- It was impossible. She wasn't serious, surely… Yet the answer in her eyes told him otherwise, soft and careful, innocent and apprehensive, he could return no reply but a moan. "Christine…" It was insane- impossible… He would wake up the next morning in hell-"Please-"Their lips met and broke apart in a dance of lust and of passion. He held her against his body, hoping that if he held her, she wouldn't disappear, she wouldn't go away, and she wouldn't leave him alone as so many had before….

He had all but lifted her, crushing her to his mouth… abruptly she drew away, shaking, and a sudden inexplicable tear drifted from a dark eye. She didn't dare tell him why she had left, what kept her from surrendering utterly. Deep in her mind, a handsome face framed by waves of honey colored hair swam into focus.

Somehow he knew. "Your fop? The golden boy?" Rage began to build like a whirlwind in his head, a pressure like fire spreading endlessly through the dry kindling of desire. "He doesn't love you, my angel! He will take what he wants and leave you-"He didn't have the heart to continue. Let her be happy for a time-He held her close, sobbing with uncontrollable emotion. "God damn it, Christine, I love you!"

Too much. With a cry of sudden fear, she tore away and ran for the lake. She had splashed so far into the water it had all but reached her knees, before he caught her. "NO-let me go! Let me go!" she screamed with an intensity that shook the glass of the mirrors.

His hand covered her mouth roughly, she couldn't breathe, he would be sure of it. Let her pass from the conscious world- it would be nothing but a dream to her, a depraved fantasy of her Angel-He could have killed her, then, his arms aching for the quick pressure, the bite and release as he squeezed the live from her goddess's throat. Then, he would be free…. She stopped her struggle against him, and he took her in his arms. How could he kill this little songbird? Better to let it fly than to wring its lovely neck. Her screams became fainter, and weakly, she fainted dead away. The damned boy. If even the thought of him could… biting his lip fiercely, he lifted her gently into the boat, and began the long trek back.

She blinked, confused, startled at the gentle motion of rowing. Looking up, she caught site of a dark god, robed in billowing ebony shadows. The aged Charon had become more than his role, carrying the ghosts of the past over the Styx- she could stare at him forever… He caught her eye. "So, you lying vixen- you pick the golden boy after all."She whimpered, ready to protest. "No use pretending, Cheri. I see the disgust in your eyes." She shook her head in disbelief. How could he think that? She wanted him with every fiber of her being, how did-"Angel, please… forgive me, I was mislead, mistaken-"

"No."He tried to ignore her pleading, her desperate tears. If she wanted the boy so badly… He could only oblige- give into her wishes as he always did, spoiling the child that he had reared with such hope, so many dreams of love….

There was no way to convince him of her shame, her sorrow for whatever betrayal she had inadvertently committed- none at all. He would never see her again; he would let her waste away with Raoul…She did the one thing that could save her from a life of cold, bright haze- she stood, wobbling with each movement, and jumped into the cold, dark water.

_Damn!_ Diving in after her, he searched desperately through the inky black water, his eyes finally catching a glimpse of something bloated and white…

Burning, her eyes and nose were full of water, stinging and coughing, flooding into every orifice, she could hear her heart pounding with every throb of her head, light fading into starry splotches over her eyes. So cold- so cold…_Angel_…

He searched franticly, swimming towards her in a frenzy of panic. His hands latched around her waist, bringing her close, and a storm of panicked kicking brought their heads to the surface."You bloody ignorant child!" he roared in her ear, dumping her back into the hollow of the boat unceremoniously.

"Why not let me die? Without you-"_I am nothing. Without you, I have lost my voice, my passion- every last thing that I call my own. _"Without your love, I can't survive…. "_Please- please forgive my childishness, my foolish adoration for manly beauty- I know nothing of real beauty without your guiding hand…_"Angel… forgive me…. I l-"_I love you. How I long to tell you the depth of my love for you- without you I could not even understand…._

Clearing the water from his eyes, he didn't speak another word until they reached the mirror. "Go back to him-be his little toy. And remember me for every damned moment!" he all but spat, forcing the door open, forcing her inside and slamming shut with a force of death.

pg. 9


	2. Beauty

**Beauty**

Raoul felt her hot lips on his, her breath on his throat warm and soft. All at once he needed her more than ever before, passion building with a strength that almost frightened him. She would be his tonight. "Christine- come with me."

Her lips curled into a smile. What on earth did he have planned? "Raoul-why-"His hand seemed so large as it grasped her own, drawing her down the stairs to the main foyer and into the street, where his carriage waited. Neither saw the shadow following them…

The carriage bumped its way along the cobbled streets of Paris, growing steadily warmer with each shared breath. She squirmed under Raoul's intense sapphire stare, not unlike the emerald gaze that had so captivated her… "Where are you taking me?" she giggled, trying to suppress some nerves.

Raoul said nothing, afraid to frighten her… _Wait until she is ready_, he warned himself, _she is still your little lotte! _"It's a surprise, love. " It would spare her, for now… yet she was so tempting, her cheeks flushed as if in passion…

She soon became increasingly aware of how his hand had traveled from her hand and now rested on her thigh, his thumb stroking her gently. A flutter sprang up in her belly-one she recognized…

How easy it would be to take her now, his hand inches from her sweet, wet core. Pushing her back in her seat, he let his lips explore her soft flesh, her cries and warnings ignored in the darkness of his passion.

"Oh!" his lips latched onto the pale flesh of her throat, kissing her wildly, everywhere… The carriage lurched as they tumbled to the floor, his hands stroking her bosom as she clung to his shoulders, her eyes fluttering madly…

At the sound of her cries, the phantom panicked, nearly letting loose from the twisted piece of metal, the only safety from tumbling to the ground in a heap of satin and mutilated flesh. What was the fop doing to her- what was she doing to encourage him, his lust… God above, her had to know! The window was foggy and he had to squint against the wind… he could make out a darkened mass, light glinting off of the golden boy's dandelion hair…She cried out as Raoul's hand slipped under her tight corset to fondle a perfect breast…

"No Raoul! Please… Please…": He sighed and drew his hand back, pausing to kiss her temple. "You needn't be afraid, lotte-I'll be gentle, I promise."Standing with some difficulty, taking a quick glance at the window, he gave a rap to the roof with his knuckles, and the coach rattled to a halt. The door opened with a flourish.

The "House"- or whatever that huge monstrosity of marble and gilded wood was- was warm and cozy, a lounge draped in fur was the destination of choice. The walls a crimson similar to fresh blood, the seats were upholstered in a deep, rich leather. A man's den, she noticed, before he swept her off of her feet. In seconds, her plum-colored cloak was discarded on the black and white marble floor. Before she hardly realized what was happening, he had carried her into a ridiculously opulent bedroom, covered in gilding and azure brocade.

Her breath faltered as he set her down, and immediately began unlacing the back of her corset. Silent agony filled her. A pleasure worse than any pain- every touch tortured her… would he- no, it was too soon… her corset slithered from her slender form and hit the floor with a muffled thud.

A soft gasp fluttered from her lips as his mouth found the back of her throat, his hands cradling her small breasts. "Raoul-I-""Shh… it's alright, little lotte. Wait a moment, and you won't even remember to be frightened. "With a whimper, she felt his hand drift to the small of her back and realized he was as good as his word.

Turning to him slowly, hoping for a semblance of sensuality through her nervous interior, she let her mouth turn to an almost impish smile. She let the pink lace fall from her shoulders, moving ever so slightly to feel it flutter from her collar, down her breast. She giggled nervously as passionate surprise reflected in his eyes.

His breath evaporated with a smile, as he pulled her towards him for a kiss. Her fingers began to play with the buttons of his waistcoat, until he turned her away and unlaced the back of her petticoats. Her breath caught in her throat at the same instant a hand cupped her behind.

"Ohh, you're bad…" Her wanton voice set up a mighty blush in her cheeks as his soft hands caressed her flesh…. Abruptly, she wanted him naked, standing before her- she wanted to see his nakedness… to compare him- to Him…

The window pane would have cracked if he gripped it any harder. How could she? He had offered her the world, had he not? But the boy was handsome. His hands trembled as a tear slipped down an expanse of white porcelain…

"Raoul, please, please- wait…" She couldn't explain the sudden sensation of foreboding that had descended on her mind, not enough to overshadow the lust-but capable of causing discomfort. "I-I…" He was in his shirtsleeves now; deaf to the pleas as he slid the yards of pink silk down her legs-lips met a bare thigh…

She threw her head back at the touch of his hand, the sensations his lips on her skin were creating… yet somewhere, back in the deepest reaches of her conscious, there was a scream of pain. "No, Raoul, please…" _Please, my love… My Angel…_"Don't ruin… don't do this, please!"

He frowned, and stood slowly. "Are you uncomfortable?""No-no… love, it's…" She swallowed the lump in her throat, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. He opened his arms to her. _Why keep him waiting, selfish girl?_

"Shh…don't cry, sweetheart-I'll be careful…."His arm supported her legs as he carried her to the brocade hung bed. A feather mattress reached up to embrace her shaking body, as he drew away and began divesting himself of his own clothing.

She watched him, nervous curiosity forcing a peal of giggles from her tongue- God, she needed to calm herself… As his shirt fell to the floor, his muscles were illuminated in all their splendor, and she gasped in mock surprise…. Beautiful, but no comparison to her Angel, with years of hard labor… he was a polished, preened stallion, against a rugged warhorse. Now her curiosity was peaked.

Her fingertips tingled a little, but lay still on the coverlet… there was a soft rustle of fabric as his trousers crumpled to the carpeted floor, the bed groaning under the added weight as he crawled over her carefully. Their torsos brushed with a gasp…

The feeling of naked flesh against naked flesh was too much sensation… she strained to kiss him, his cheek, his lips, his neck. Her hands caressed his –scarless- back, and her legs rubbed their way to lock together at his thighs. Her wet flesh touched something warm, something strange that jumped at the contact. She gasped.

"Try to relax…" His hands caught her hips and lifted her up to him, kissing her lips softly- almost delicately. Christine felt her heart hammering-until something hard tore through her body, bringing stinging agony.

A roar grew in his throat as well as bile, he sight drawing him closer in perverted revulsion. Yet blood rose in his sight as she cried out in pain, her head thrown back on the pillowy mattress, back arched into a half moon. He had to rescue her from that- it must be torture- but no, the torture was too sweet, she looked as if she was quite enjoying herself… He looked away, down at his boots- anywhere but that cursed window… It was then he realized the stinging pain in his hands, and found his hands covered in crimson, splinters of window sash all that was left of the decorative woodwork…

Tears streamed down her flushed face, born of pain and fear, yet she forced a smile for his sake. Raoul stroked her hair and kissed her again, his fingers at her breasts… he seemed to have a fondness for them…

She was perfect, a beautiful angel beneath him, accepting him inside of her like the blessed virgin she was… With aching slowness, he thrust again and again, savoring the feeling of her, sliding tightly around him, squeezing the engorged mass of flesh with every plunge…. His lips were on her breast, his teeth finding soft flesh…

The window rattled as he fought with the last shards of his self control. He had never wanted to kill as he had in this moment-watching that bastard use her like a two franc whore…

She screamed, the sound bursting through her as she writhed, half in pain, half in growing ecstasy as she was lifted from the mattress again and again. Her back arched as she was slammed into the mattress, impaled on him, and he lifted her hips higher, stars bursting in her vision.

"Mmm… that's my good girl…" he murmured into her ear breathily, his fingertip brushing the hard little pearl between her folds."Do you feel good?"

She nodded instinctively, obediently throwing her head back and shrieking as he amused himself, his fingertips playing with her as if she were nothing more than an animated doll. He kept to that exhausting pace, thrust after thrust, aching in her stomach and thighs and she ached for the release of that pressure, that agony that burned and longed for liberation… Plunging… She creamed out in wonderment, in love and ecstasy…

There was blood beneath her. He had made her bleed. The glass in the window cracked.

Christine heard a whimper from somewhere, his lips touching the hollow in her throat. "Ready, sweetheart?" Without waiting for an answer, he brought his finger back between her legs and let it circle that needy little bud once again…

Damn that bastard. He would die tonight. How dare he take what was not rightfully his- to take her, and make her bleed? And she was still bleeding, the fingers between her folds spreading an ooze of the crimson fluid between her ivory flesh… And still, he kept pushing into her, harder, higher… A bellow tore free. Damn it all. The window shattered as he plummeted into the brocaded room.

"Ooh-!" Her fingers clenched in the silk bedcovers as something inside her burst underneath his fingertips, sending her back to earth in hundreds of sparkling fragments- just as an ear-shattering crash cut through the haze of guilty ecstasy. Both of them turned towards the broken window-only to find shards of broken glass, and nothing more.

His chest vibrated with repressed sobs, the cloak and the darkness concealing his body beneath the windowsill. She had looked so beautiful…

"A-angel?" She had screamed his- his title, the only name she had ever known of him…

Raoul looked bewildered for a moment, before kissing her cheek. "Not likely, Lotte- the snow may have turned to hail." Her eyelids fluttered with the aftershocks, and he smiled. He loved her desperately, yet she was still _such_ a little girl…

Outside, the shadow began to catch his breath. She had cried something, at the moment her body had begun to convulse so perfectly… Something that didn't sound like the boy's wretched name… No… It wasn't possible…

"Angel… please…" She looked towards the window, almost pleading for her Angel to hold her…. It had hurt- it had torn her apart, she could still feel the ache… and she felt so guilty for it! The pleasure- that he had denied her… and she wanted- no! It couldn't be-!

"Lotte?" His arms curled around her small form, cuddling her to him as his lips met her cheek. "Does it still hurt?"

With a whimper, she nodded, turning her head from him, assuming a pretense of exhaustion, pretending to slumber… A beautiful pearl of a tear caught the light as it fell from her ivory cheek to the azure brocade. It was enough.

"Damn you!" Crickets screaming, owls hooted, bats fluttered in excitement- all awakened by the agonized roar that tore through the night, transforming the Visconte's bones to ice. The soprano shuddered beneath him, confirming that she was, in fact, very much awake. Raoul's arms tightened around her. "He can't hurt you-I won't let him touch you, not tonight!" Suddenly, his eyes seemed to soften. "Try to forget him, little-"His hands were at her hips again, pushing her flesh towards his own….

"No!" All other noise was cut off by her scream, it echoed in the stillness, devilish, forlorn, alone. He couldn't believe it. After all that had happened that night? After he had given her so much pleasure, held her as she cried- for another man? Yet he could not deny the soft sympathy, the love that tore at his heart as he watched her sad eyes, downcast and hurt beyond repair…

"Angel?" The pearlesque tone sliced through him as no blade ever could. She was still so innocent… so innocent…"You were once my one companion, you were warm and gentle, you, at once, a daughter, lover…. You are ALL THAT MATTERS!" He fell to his knees, a shriek rising into the cold night air.

Realization began to damn on Raoul's battered mind, as he watched tears descend from her dark eyes. With hard gulp, his disengaged himself carefully, before reaching for a flintlock pistol concealed quite ready on the mantelpiece.

"Is that true, Christine? Did you... were you… are you nothing but a whore? Did I mean nothing to you but lust? Do you… do you even want me? Do you even love me? I loved you, damn you! I loved you… and you betrayed me- for a ghost? A GHOST! Christine- you would rather give yourself to a man who doesn't even exist… than to be my… you betrayed me…and you…. You will not…" "No, love, please!..." He laughed at her hysterics. "Don't you call me that, you harlot! You will never hurt me, you will not betray me again, will you, little Lotte? A shot rang out.

Wood splinters showered down on his cloak in the wake of a bullet- the gun cocked, preparing to fire again…"No!" The nobleman found himself pinned to the floor, the air knocked from his lungs as a crushing weight rested his back, strong fingers prizing the pistol from his grasp.

pg. 5


	3. Freedom

**Freedom**

His lips were soft. Christine tried to force herself to breathe as her- she still couldn't quite believe it-husband of four hours led her into the opulent bedroom. A lavish wedding had taken its toll on her mind and body,-she wanted nothing more than to collapse and sleep. However, it seemed Raoul had other ideas…

He undid her buttons slowly, watching his-wife-breathing heavily… what a shame, he thought bitterly, with absolute contempt, that happy night; that he would have to share the night with another…

Her breath shuddered, as the lace over gown tumbled to the floor, followed by a petticoat, camisole, and corset. Raoul mutter something, sarcastically, about the damned complexity of female garb. He glanced over his shoulder as a shadow began to move closer, silent, a gleam of silver in the darkness the only warning of impending doom.

_"…yes, I know of that night. That drunken, depraved night-far away from home, far away from civilization. Who could blame you for it? And you enjoyed the feeling of his flesh upon yours, the breath hot on your neck, hardness pressing within your thighs, as you let him take you again and again… Your family, I am sure, would be delighted to hear of your-explorations; as the young heir to their fortune I am sure you are attentive to the expectations presented to you. I will be awaiting your answer, Monsieur with bated breath, _

_Yours truly. PTO. _

_P.S. I assure you, for your own benefit, it would be wise not to divulge this information to anyone outside of our immediate relations. If you do, you can be assured that a disaster beyond your primitive imagination will occur."_

"What-? Angel…?" Blood pounded in her head as soft hands caressed her breasts, while lips, so familiar, so tender, travelled down her neck. Confusion spread like a wildfire at the multiple sensations, hands, lips, each unconnected from the other, male scent everywhere…

"Yes, ma chère , I am here. "The sound exploded from everywhere at once, a cacophony of kinetic song, and Raoul found himself glancing around the room before he could convince himself to stop. He dropped to his knees before her, watching in jealous arousal as her eyes rolled back into her skull. Abandoning all thought at the lips of her Angel… He chuckled. He may give her lips; he would give her his tongue. She was so wet- positively dripping already… he had to wonder… _Was his voice enough to create this… or were his lips those of Eros himself?_ She tasted hot and sweet as he spread her apart, finding that perfect little bud of flesh with the tip and swirling his tongue around it.

Finding her thus preoccupied, the Phantom found a slip of velvet, tying it gently around her eyes. A thumb slipped over her peaked nipple, and she gasped in shock.

"A-Angel, I…" A warm blush covered her ivory skin from the roots of her auburn hair to her delicate toes, Raoul's attention between her legs fairly making her head spin. Her back found purchase against a hard chest, the second her vision disappeared. There were hands at her breasts, coaxing each nipple to a hard point, before they slid down her ribs, to her hips, to her thighs… She could feel his mouth-capable of weaving the most haunting melodies-sliding down her spine; over the curve of her backside…An unlovely screech left her lips, at the sudden shock of two male tongues between her folds…

As their tongues met and broke apart, Raoul found himself wanting this-man's- touch on him, his hardness pressing on another… With an audible sigh, he broke away from her swollen wetness to unbutton his waistcoat, hoping that the perversity would fade without the touch to sustain it.

The Phantom did not dwell on the touches of the man's tongue; in fact, he quite enjoyed the silent agony playing over the fop's features. But she was so warm, so ripe, ready to burst with every movement… he couldn't torture the poor boy any longer… she was so swollen on his tongue-the taste was like nothing he had ever savored before…He broke away from her folds, his flesh finding a crevice in which to bury itself, her flesh like molten lava surrounding him. He felt her muscles tightening around him, and heard as she delicately squealed, as the bead of flesh above him was pinched and teased.

It wasn't fair; she couldn't see a thing- Something hard and thick slid through her folds, stretching her mercilessly. Oh… he was enormous, all but painful…"Please-"There was a soft crushing sound of fabric as he sank back onto the bed, pulling her into his lap. He inched deeper inside with a moan, catching her wrists with a tassel and guiding them behind her neck. Raoul lunged with a vengeance and grabbed at her breasts, fingertips seeking out her nipples. A finger slid between her legs, locating that tender little nub… Behind the velvet, her eyes widened as her jaw dropped, and she began to scream.

The sound was- if not musical- beautiful all the same. His hands found her hips, rocking her as he thrust upwards into her over and over again. She was… It was all a deranged fantasy, he told himself as his fingers slipped over the slick little nub again. The sound of her squeals of rapture was almost too much…

Raoul stood, spreading his legs as the Phantom looked up at him with something akin to fear and disbelief. His hand tangled in her auburn curls, he pulled her head to his throbbing hardness.

A panic seized her, and her fingers curled around his neck. "Raoul-?" It was as far as she could go before another hard length demanded entrance through her mouth. His flesh tasted salty, and she could hear moans with even the slightest movement of her tongue…

Her walls gripping him in desperation, he stroked her pelvis reassuringly, shucking off his trousers with a rapid movement. She whimpered around the boy's member, as calloused hands cupped her breast, a soft mouth at the back of her neck…

He entered her again, the flesh giving way to him almost instantly, seizing him with every throb. She bucked on him like a whore, the most delicious sounds muffled by the boy invading her mouth- with a grunt of his own, he realized that the boy had a very musical tone to his groaning… and her breasts were so soft and pliable in his hands, her nipples so hard… He found that he was singing, without any meaning at all, the sound piercing her in time with his thrusts as he plunged into her harder and faster…

A wild bellow ripped from his pretty throat as he burst apart between her lips. His eyelids fluttered with sheer ecstasy, and he dropped to his knees before her, as the worshipper to their idol…

The taste was… intriguing. Salty, and almost sweaty, like tears, but thick and sweet and hot in her throat. Yet the moment passed by in a flurry of movement, and she had no time to dwell on her boy toy-"Raoul-Raoul… please, oh God… Angel!"

Sweat had begun to mottle the fabric of his shirt, and he stripped it off quickly before spreading her thighs and petting her with his tongue… The man inside her gave a moan, harmonizing with the trill of her shriek… Raoul smirked. "You both feel that?" He lapped at her again, rewarded with a chorus of wailing…

When had the boy become so wanton- so damnably GOOD? His tongue- it was so devilish… so much like a flame, licking at his loins, sending burning through her flesh, throbbing and squeezing him, moving him closer and closer to that hell, that fetish world of lustful abandon…

The growl alarmed her; but she threw her head back in blind forgetting as the tongue flicked her again and again, firm, soft and subtle, melding with thrusting pain… under the velvet, her eyes opened and closed in a rising pleasure that was also an agony…"Please…"

Letting his hands rest on her hips, he moved upward gently, eliciting a whimper from her throat. Her fingers clawed at the back of his throat, until the bindings, limp with sweat, and limp-slid off her wrists, freeing her at last. With a shriek of triumph, she ripped off the blindfold and turned to face her angel with a hiss.

Raoul turned away, his hands at her waist and his lips at her collarbone. By all that is holy, she would be his- at least once. Just once was all he could ask. Steeling his nerves, he shoved the man away, entering her as soon as the other was extracted. "He is a man, and nothing more. "

"Christine…" He all but sobbed as he was forcibly pulled from her depths, throbbing painfully. Her hand caught his shoulders, Raoul's damp chest slamming into her back with each violent thrust, and forced him to the bed on his back, her shaking fingers fumbling with his nipples.

He simply lay there and let the torture twine itself over his ripening flesh as her delicate fingers wove a tapestry with his sighs. She was shaking uncontrollably, he r breath coming in little gasps as that BASTARD slammed into her thrust after brutal thrust. Her hands left his nipples as they felt as if to explode, leaving him in an aching agony that was like no other.

"Wh-what- do-I…"

She whimpered softly, hands caressing his throat.

"Angel, sh-show me-how-t-to…" A wince crossed her face as Raoul's teeth dug into her shoulder.

Raoul watched in dazed amazement as her flesh began to purple under him, slowing his thrusts only for a moment before a hand found his throat. "Don't. Ever. Don't you ever hurt her."

"No-!" she wailed in protest, catching his wrist with a petite hand. "Please, don't-"

He reined in his rage-for her- and lowered her hand to his still throbbing, aching hardness, gulping in almost animalistic sorrow and disappointment.

Her muscles tightened around him with a throb, his fingers dancing over her clit, desperate for her to finish, and-he hoped- bring him to his own end…Meanwhile, Christine's clumsy attempts at tending to her angel had him moaning like a wounded beast. Her tongue hesitantly grazed over a hardened nipple, and he reared up with a cry.

Stars danced in her vision as she tightened around him, Angel for the moment forgotten in the haze…

Her juices spilled over his flesh, coating his fingers and lubricating his thrusting member, giving him more momentum than ever before…before he knew it, he was screaming in happy ecstasy…

So, the fop was about to come! He would not spill his seed inside her… with a roar, he lifted Christine off of Raoul and laid her on her back before him.

What-! Ignoring the viscomte's noises of outrage, Christine wreathed her arms around his shoulders and let him feast upon her lips… his tongue tasted intriguing, salty and pungent… Her thighs hugged at his hips, slickening his flesh with her essence.

"Ange… My love, my sweet…"

A silent tear streaked down her face, her fingers in his silky hair, her lips on porcelain…

"Forgive me." She whimpered gently.

"He shouldn't be here…"

Raoul's jaw dropped as he watched the spectacle take effect. She – she didn't- She wanted THAT? Not him, her husband? He growled in rage.

"No, Lotte – I am here, and you're mine –"

A slap left him breathless. Her hand shot out and left a red mark across his face-

"How dare you!"

His jaw hung in mute shock, before tears of fury stung his blue eyes. No- not tonight.

He lunged for her, too late- the two rolled to the side, moaning as their bodies connected. She cried out as a thumb stroked her breast, clearly unwilling- or unable – to conceal the ecstasy. The phantom could have laughed at the expression of the fop as he thrusted inside of her. Her breasts jumped again as he mercilessly pounded her into the soft mattress. An idea forming in his frustrated mind, Raoul left them moaning on the bed and snatched a vial of perfumed oil from Christine's dressing table.

With a throaty wail, she grasped his shoulders and tried to roll him onto his back. He bit back a laugh t her pitiful attempts… she was tossing her head, screaming, her hair fluttering like the mane on a little Provençale pony…

She wanted his flesh under her, to rip her nails through the exposed skin of his broad chest, to suck his darkened nipples until they popped with ecstasy- her back arched, sending him deeper than ever before…

Finally-her screams rose two notes as her little fists beat against his shoulders…adorable… her walls convulsed around him wildly as he finally capitulated and rolled on his back, filling her to the brim-at the same instant the bastard jumped her from behind, catching her breasts with a groan. His eyes widened in something near to horror as she thrashed, tears beginning to spill, and he realized what the boy must have done-God, couldn't he see it was too much?

She convulsed violently as her tender flesh engorged to ungodly proportions, the sensation of tearing almost flooding her with shame and pain… Screams tore from her throat, half of agony, but God in Heaven… "Angel!"

"Shh… quiet now, sweetheart," her husband murmured to her, raising his eyebrows to the man beneath them, "We'll make it better for you."

All but trembling with suppressed rage, her lover spread her folds and let his fingers play with her, doing his utmost to distract her from the apparent agony…

Christine couldn't decide whether to classify the experience as Hell or the seventh wing of Heaven. Both men were…substantial… and to have them both inside her at once…

Both thrusted into her, both trying desperately to outlast and out perform the other… Every thrust seemed an eternity, and before Raoul could even move against him, the Phantom came… inside her, spilling deep into her depths.

"Angel…Ange-"

His eyes rolled back in his head, a melodious roar on his tongue, and she was so deep, so lush…"God…" Flame licked at his limbs, her lips on his, and from somewhere came a masculine groan as the boy spilled behind her.

He collapsed on her tehn, utterly spent, his boy still shaking in the force of his passions. The Phantom chuckled softly, as his prized squirmed beneath his weight, pinned, and weak from exhaustion. With a none-too-gentle shove, he removed the offending bulk from her body.

"Is that better for you, my sweet?"

Shaking, still glowing with absolute passion, all she could do is nod as he took her into his arms once more.

pg. 6


	4. Love

**Love**

The rope was tightening- any tighter and-

"NO, Raoul, no…" Her voice was so desperate, so grieved that the Phantom was half tempted to let the damned fool go, if only to show him mercy with a quicker and less painful demise.

"Come. "

His hand unfurled gracefully, drawing her toward him with no effort at all. She felt prepared to weep. Even now, even after everything, he still held that complete control over her mind…

"What makes you want him, my love? Why is he so precious?"

He could feel this throat breaking under the rope, bones cracking in every effort to breathe., and that glob of mucus didn't seem to help matters… He would suffocate on his own fluids while the Phantom ignored him… but all that was unimportant. He- that monster- was holding his… his wife… hands on her waist, moving lower…

"Does he make you feel passionate? Breathtaking? Adored?"

He dropped the rope into the algaed lake, caressing her ribs through the shimmering fabric of her corset.

"Does he inflame your blood?"

His tongue darted into the hollow of her throat, teeth grazing the tender skin…

"Tell me I don't excite you…"

How was she to respond, when the only thing she felt was lust- love for him, for her Angel-She turned in struggle as the water behind splashed in desperate pleas.

"Admit it to me, Cheri-it's too much to even stand beside me! You can't control a single breath, the lust and desire are far too strong-my voice alone is enough to bring you to release!"

"NO! Christine, darling, don't listen to him, he's nothing but a madman! Come, little lotte! Please!"

"How perfect-the handsome hero attempting to outwit the grotesque villain! I always found the side of evil far more fascinating- didn't you, my Angel? Ah, yes- I can see that you do. It appeals to you- trapped inside the darkness, unable to escape, while the wicked prince has his way at last!"

"Angel, please…"Her voice held such a pleading, almost begging the man- it was more pleading than he would have allowed…

"No-Christine! He's insane, don't you see-"

"He's rather irritating, is he not?" The Phantom growled, lifting a spare piece of rope, and forcing it inside the boy's trembling mouth. "Beauty is better appreciated in silence."

Christine let her mouth open to protest-what he said next made her eyes flood with tears.

"Little brother, always loved, always handsome. You never knew her as I did-you never loved her-"he grasped Christine's waist tighter, "You treated her as a common whore… she gave you everything- now you will grovel in submission before her as you- you should have all those years ago!"

At the sound of muffled, gagging protest, he turned, lashing out at the scum as a sob tore from his throat. As his foot connected with ribs, and the sound of cracking became wet and disgusting with violent hatred, he screamed. "You were loved! You weren't sold-"Another kick to the boy's ribs sent shivers rushing through his battered body. "And molested and abused and raped! YOU WERE LOVED!"

"What-"She couldn't repress a wide-eyed sob… "What are you saying…?"

A gasp escaped the terrorized boy-man beneath his feet.

"He is my brother… Half-"

He turned to Christine, his eyes wet and shining as a child's.

"… My mother- our mother… was nothing more than a harlot."

Oh God…

Her jaw hung slack, and she was distantly aware that her face was wet with tears.

"But- but how…!"

He could have laughed at her stupidity.

"You are familiar with the term, no? She was nothing but a common WHORE! My father… I never knew his name… she never thought it necessary to even give me affection, never mind a bit of information. But his! His was Le Duce de Chainy himself! And when she-d- when he was born, she left him with the Duke, who raised him as his very own little pompous brat while I- I was… I was-"

No… not him… a horrid sense of foreboding bringing tears to her dark eyes, she moved closer, her tiny hands on his shoulders.

"Wh-what happened?"

His eyes closed, a single tear etching a path over the angry, scarred flesh. Her hands trembled. For now, Raoul no longer existed.

"Angel, what… what did they do to you?"

_He was at once seven years of age, caged as an animal in palpable darkness. A tooth lay broken next to him, bones littering the floor where they had fallen from spectators' hands. He touched his nose gingerly, blood trickling from each nostril of the broken appendage-that's right- Keeper had slammed him into a bar for disobedience. _

"_Don't move, boy. "_

_ As if he could. That voice went through him as a heated knife, yet it was so icy cold- unhuman. Without a fight, he was plucked from where he stood, resigned and limp, and chained to the bars, with only a whimper of protest. Linen was roughly torn asunder, and he was left naked, exposed in the cold night air. Something hard forced itself into his body, hot and throbbing and hard. With a cry of pain, he thrashed, trying desperately to free his arms to scratch, to bite at the man behind him, at that thing that had invaded his body-Only to have Keeper's knife at his throat and then on his back-the stinging, wet hot pain made him scream louder, earning him more and more cuts… _more and more scars.

"No, cheri, I beg of you, do not ask it of me!"

His voice held so much grief, regret-

Despair.

For the first time, she noticed a small scar in the flesh of his throat, slender enough to suggest a decades old knife wound…

"They… stabbed you?" She whispered, tears sliding tears sliding down her face. Something in his eyes froze her blood.

Numbness.

"I was raped, the first time when I was a little over seven years old."

The world stopped. How strange, she noted, ludicrously-his eyes had flecks of gold embedded within the emerald.

"Th-The- First time?"

_The burlap was torn off of him with almost a flourish, the jeering crowds nothing to him but a noise, a disturbance best left unnoticed. He covered the raw flesh with one hand before Keeper could grasp it and pull it away, to let the crowds get a good long look at him, the Devil's child. _

"_It's not my wrath you'll be suffering tonight, demon." _

_The ground was rough as his knees found purchase far too quickly on the hard stone and prickly straw. He jerked away from Keeper, his eyes filling with water, salty tracks burning over the inflamed meat of his face. _

"_They will pay me much for you- for one night's service… You will obey them- unless you want…?"_

_The knife appeared, slashing his shoulder once, silencing his feeble protests with a gasp of pain. He was thrown in the midst of well-dressed men, the raw side of his face covered with a heavy mask of copper. The flap of the tent was open, and waving in the breeze. He tried to run, and dash away in a desperate attempt at freedom, and was rewarded roughly, pushed down into the dirt. Forced to his knees, he prayed silently… for an absolution, a mercy that would never come. _

"_Suck. " But how, when his mouth would not open wide enough to take both… both of the…_

"They broke my jaw." The pain was still there, in every word, in every syllable that he had ever sung. The growing body that sustained these injuries could not have healed without doctor's care… and he had been used, time and time again… His dislocated jaw was set inexpertly by a kind, charitable customer, and his arse…

"I was-used… frequently… for money."

She had stopped breathing.

"You mean they-they-how often?"

Oh God-how could she-how dare she… it was impossible… No-one- he had dared to tell no-one, and now… now she was… now she was curious.

_Keeper had Customers lined up every night-Every walk of life came through those tent- whips, knives, candle, and all forms of torture that man could conjure… but all men. And he was the Devil's child- no-one would touch him but to spite him, no hand of friendship was offered. After a time, he began to numb to the constant stream of agony, sharp biting pain… and with a cruel irony only hell could afford, he found that he had a talent for it. _

"I had what you may call a monopoly on the business."

_Even the night before his rescue, as hot wax was poured from brass over an open wound, festering on his lower back, a man's thrusting hardness pounding harder and harder into his helpless, screaming body- he had felt nothing. He had screamed because it was what they wanted. The more he screamed, the faster they came, and it was easier to abandon all pretenses of bravery than to stay silent and suffer more. The man's bruises had lasted for weeks- the scar-_

The scar was still there, a brilliant white gash above his buttocks.

"It was-every night… for so long… so long, I don't know, a year? A century?"

"Enough."

Her face was soaked in silent tears, and she let him taste them as she drew his trembling lips to her own.

Raoul, who had been near to choking on his own revulsion, made a muffled sound of protest which fell on deaf ears.

He drew away, shaking, stunned at the feel of her hands-her soft, little hands-stroking his hair, her body firm and warm against his own. With a choked sob, she brought their mouths together again-and again- and again, until he was sobbing hopelessly.

"Cheri-you do-you…"

She didn't hate him for- she didn't- No, it could not be true, he could not deserve…

"Shh…"

His skin felt leathery beneath her palm, but somehow she didn't mind…

"Too many have denied you love, my Angle. Too many have hurt you, in every way. Please, just let me-"

She swallowed.

"I-I can't. I can't- not now, nor-"

He backed away from her, trying to collect himself, hoping desperately that she would continue, that it was not all a nightmarishly wonderful vision, sent to tempt him into despair…Silent agony filled him, and he wished for death to come swiftly…

She reached for him slowly, just as the sound of tearing reached her ears.

Raoul broke free of the bonds containing him and rushed toward the spectacle, fire and fury clouding his vision.

"Damn you, you- monster- you can't drag her down to hell with you!"

The phantom's head sank beneath the surface of the putrid water, the boy above him smirking in triumph as the man below became motionless and limp.

"NO! Raoul!"

He glanced up to her, the scream ringing in his ears.

It was all the distraction necessary.

As a monster from the inky depths, he surfaced, freeing himself from the clutches of the fetid depths, dragging the boy down with him.

"Die, brother."

Gradually, his struggles subsided and he lay still on the lake floor.

Shaking, the phantom turned back to the young woman who stood on the shore, terrified of what he might find…

She waded to the Angle, his face dark and raw, and touched him once on the shoulder. Tears were dried on her cheeks, and she spoke as if in a strange dream, as if she were no longer alive and the words came from the grave.

"Is he-he is…?"

Her lips met his in an instant, the feeling of guilt and hatred, bitter betrayal and languishing grief killing every emotion she had ever felt. It was something that they could share. She caught his hand gently.

"Come… please…"

She left Raoul's corpse behind, leading him past the lace curtain. To that hallowed place they both needed to go.


End file.
